Running With Scissors
by AfterTheFall
Summary: He figured this was Jonathon. Unlike his namesake, he had not inherited ‘Jack’. He had never met Jonathon before, it was too dangerous, but had heard multitudes of stories about the boy from Sydney in many of their meetings. This little boy was not th


**Monty Notes: **Another OLD story, this one written December 2002. 

_Title: Running With Scissors.   
Author: Torch The Moon.  
Summary: A story from the likes of me mwahahaha  
_   
  
~*~  
  
_It's coming round again  
The slowly creeping hand  
Of time and its command  
Soon enough it comes  
and settles in its place  
Its shadow in my face  
Puts pressure in my day  
  
This life well it's slipping right through my hands  
These days turned out nothing like I had planned _  
  
  
It was suppose to be a happy night out. Just the two of them; no escorts, no checking for tails, no fear of being killed. Finally, after so many years of deceit and treachery, they were free.   
  
They weren't suppose to end up on the dock, fighting to save her life. A drunk was not suppose to run them of the road, nor were they to end up in the harbour. He had gotten free easily, he reacted fast. She didn't have time.   
  
He climbed out of the freezing water, up to the docks, in search of her. "Sydney! Sydney!" he screamed, over and over.   
  
He wasted no time, and jumped back into the freezing Pacific Ocean. When he found her, and brought her to the surface, she was barley breathing; had she been any other person, she's be dead by now. Her lips had turned a shade of purplish-blue, and the colour drained from her face.  
  
A small crowd of 5 people gathered round the pair, one had the sense to call an ambulance. But the 2 were oblivious to the people around them. He sat, cradling her head in his lap, "Come on Syd, keep breathing, you'll be Ok" he urged, fighting back the tears in his eyes. He'd not cried in front of her before, he was sure as hell not starting now.   
  
"I..I love you.." she choked out, finding it extremely difficult to speak.  
  
He didn't care that he was crying now, "Don't Syd, this isn't goodbye. We're going to grow old together, have lots of kids that we're going to spoil, we're going to be woken up at 4:30 every Christmas morning and we'll always be together. This isn't the end" he spoke, with emotion filly every word, pushing the wet strands of hair out of her eyes.  
  
"It is….I..I can't.." she couldn't speak without pain engulfing her body.  
  
"Shhh…don't speak sweetie. It's OK..everything will be ok" he whispered, kissing her forehead, "I love you..I love you so much" he repeated, over and over.   
  
  
Two hours later, he was sitting in a hospital waiting room, a cup of cold coffee in his hands. He had a towel around him, and his eyes bloodshot. He was her father walked into the room briefly, gave the soaked man a look, mainly filled of anger and hatred, but also small patches of sympathy and his own sadness. A little boy followed. His eyes reflected nothing but a deep, empty void.   
  
He moved forward, listening to her father and the doctor talk. Their conversation was muffled, and he didn't hear much of it, except one sentence. "..I'm sorry Mr Bristow. Sydney didn't make it.." And the words echoed in his head, over and over.   
  
~*~  
  
He didn't know how much time had passed when the doctor came to see him. He had heard Jack loose his temper, punch walls, break things, and eventually leave, for the pub no doubt. He didn't blame him, if he could find the strength to move, he would do the same. The doctor asked a few questions, the usual post-death ones that Jack would have answered, had he not lost his temper. He answered them as simply as he could, his voice flat and monotonous. He looked up, and noticed the little boy sitting across from him, the same emptiness still in his eyes. He figured this was Jonathon. Unlike his namesake, he had not inherited 'Jack'. He had never met Jonathon before, it was too dangerous, but had heard multitudes of stories about the boy from Sydney in many of their meetings. This little boy was not the playful, happy six-year-old he had been told about. Their eyes met, and they both shared each other's grief and sorrow in a single glance. Both had lost the most important woman in their lives.  
  
"Are you aware Ms. Bristow was pregnant?" the doctor asked.  
  
His eye's shot up at the doctor, "what? Is the baby..? Did it..?"  
  
"The baby was born, caesarean, 2 months premature. She's in an incubator on life support now. However, we believe she was born too early, she's not fully developed and will probably die without it"  
  
"I want to see her"  
  
"Sir.."  
  
"Please. It's my daughter. Let me see her"   
  
The doctor battled himself for a few moments before giving in, "This way"  
  
  
He rushed into the room; Sydney's body was covered, ready to be taken away. He was thankful for that, he couldn't handle seeing her again. He walked passed, over to the enclosed bed, which held the tiny life he and Sydney had created. She was so small; so fragile. He left the room, knowing if he stayed any longer, he would never be able to leave her.  
  
"My little angel.." he whispers.  
  
~*~  
  
As he makes his way out into the waiting room, he sees the little boy still sitting there.  
  
"Jonathon?" he asks. Jonathon looks up to the man he's never seen in his short life, yet feels like has known him for longer. He takes the man's outstretched arm, and follows him outside.  
  
~*~  
  
Jack sits a pub, the name of which is insignificant. He stares at his scotch on the bar, his anguish devouring him. The look in the eyes of his grandson in embedded into his eyes. It was the same look Sydney had, the night her mother 'died'. He laughed at the irony of the situation, at lack of a better reaction to it. Sydney had died the same way her mother supposedly had. She left behind a beautiful 6-year-old child. Sydney had survived so long in one of the most dangerous professions in the world; beaten the best of the best, yet was no match from the drunken idiots of LA. Jack hated Irony more than anything.   
  
He left the glass on the bar, headed outside, fighting back the tears, for his daughter, for his grandson, and the granddaughter he will never know, for the man who overcame all odds to be with her, no matter how much he disliked the man, he had grown to somewhat respect him. And for himself.   
  
He made his way to the pond he, Laura and Sydney would visit in the days before all of this hell he called life. He was surprised to see, at this late hour, two other people already there. As he made his way over, he realised it was his grandson and daughter's fiancé. He said nothing, just took a seat next to Jonathon.  
  
"How do you know my mum..?" Jonathon asked, after moments of silence.  
  
He looked towards Jack for approval to tell. Jack simply nodded, "Well, about 8 years ago.."  
  
  
  
  
End of Chapter 1.   
  
Did you like it? Should I write more? -- the Prequel [about how they got together, what happened along the way, who the guy is etc..] or a sequel -- [does the baby live, what happens to my 2 favourite guys? and Jonathon? etc..] Or is it bad, and should I just stop now?  
  
  
PS – the song was 'These Days' By Powderfinger.

  
TBC.


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